


A Lifetime of Words

by FH14



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, minor Sweden (Hetalia: Axis Powers)/Female Sweden (Hetalia: Axis Powers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FH14/pseuds/FH14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his parents, Peter struggles to deal with the return of his half-brother Oskar, and the discovery of years of letters and diary entries chronicling the course of their fathers’ lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lifetime of Words

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written for the **[Surströmmiakki Fest](http://surstrommiakki.dreamwidth.org/13485.html)** on dreamwidth. The prompt was "Discovery [Optional: Letter(s)]".
> 
> Not all the characters have assigned names so I used the following names: Oskar is Ladonia, Mikkel is Denmark, Lukas is Norway, and Emil is Iceland. Also, Ingrid is a reference to Nyotalia Sweden, and Alice is a reference to Nyotalia England.
> 
> Also, Dad is Tino/Finland and Pop is Berwald/Sweden.

The funeral ended early because of the rain.

Some of the guests said that it was because God was crying over the loss of a life. Peter thought it was just rain and people should keep their amusing idioms to themselves. It was a funeral after all.

Pop’s funeral wasn’t any easier. It had only been a few months ago that he had been standing with Dad in that same cemetery watching a casket get lowered into the ground. It was sunny that day. And Peter didn’t like the idea that God would cry over the death of one father but not the other.

“Do you think we should make them eat their own casseroles?”

Peter blinked, looking up from the beer in his hand as Wendy unceremoniously stacked several identical-looking casseroles on top of each other. While Peter knew they meant well, it seems everyone decided to buy one of the frozen supermarket casseroles rather than make one from scratch.

Wendy, at least, had made a pie. It was a meat pie, something that her mother had taught her when she was a kid. Dad had tried many times to teach Peter how to make a traditional Karelian pie during his childhood, and Peter found himself wishing he had bothered to learn instead of wandering off halfway through to play with his action figures.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he blinked, putting his beer down. “Raivis said he put some frozen appetizers downstairs. That might be better.”

“Okay,” She said, closing the fridge. “You might wanna do your rounds sooner rather than later. People get a lot more talkative when they’re drunk.”

“Yeah, thanks,” He waved, leaving the kitchen.

The living room was already filling up with mourners. Peter only recognized about half of them, likely due to the fact that he nodded through introductions as a child without really learning anyone’s names. Unless they looked fun, then he made the effort to try and get to know them.

A couple of old ladies came up to Peter and expressed their condolences, mentioning the time Dad bought presents to their church when the economy went bad a few decades before. Peter didn’t know. He didn’t particularly like going to church because some of the people there treated his fathers badly, and after a certain point they stopped making him go. He would’ve liked to have heard about that though.

Another missed conversation.

The cycle seemed to repeat itself. Uncle Emil told him about the time Dad and his friend Eduard had won a skiing competition. Uncle Lukas told him about how Pop used to put Uncle Mikkel in his place when he got too rowdy. Uncle Mikkel talked about the time they got into a drunken fistfight outside of Grand Central Station, or at least what he could remember of it, which admittedly wasn’t much.

It was hard for Peter to picture it. He had always known his fathers as old men. They were already in their fifties when they adopted him.

Of course, hearing about memories that were intended to comfort him only made him feel so much worse. He found a home here and now it was gone.

“Peter? Hey Peter!”

Peter froze, a creeping anger bubbling up inside of him at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Peter? There you are!” The speaker put his hand on his shoulder, “Didn’t you hear me call-“

“What the hell are you doing here Oskar,” Peter hissed, more anger in his voice than he thought possible.

The redhead flinched, taking a step back.

"I just thought-"

"Just thought what? You'd walk back in here like nothing happened? When Pop died you left us." Peter clenched his fist.

"We can do this later-" Wendy interrupted, grabbing his arm and dragging him away.

Peter continued to glare at Oskar until Wendy successfully pulled him back into the kitchen. That didn't stop Peter from feeling angry, and the next time Oskar entered his line of sight he continued to stare at him in anger. If it weren't for Wendy hovering over him at any given moment, he would have probably launched himself across the room at the guy.

By the time the last of the mourners had left, Oskar looked like he was going to start hiding behind furniture.

"Do I need to stay?" Wendy asked, pulling her purse over her shoulder and crossing her arms. Oskar was standing awkwardly next to the couch while Peter ate one of the leftover appetizers a bit more violently than necessary.

"No, I'll behave," Peter mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him.

"You better. Especially on today of all days," Wendy snapped, before taking her own leave.

As soon as she shut the door, Peter walked up to Oskar and grabbed him by his collar.

"I can't believe you actually showed your face here!" Peter yelled, pushing him back onto the couch. "You had the audacity to ditch Dad when Pop died and now that he's gone and you don't have to deal with it-"

"That's not it!" Oskar interrupted, holding up his hands defensively. "I- I couldn't handle it okay? When Pop died I just fell apart and... I needed time."

"Are you serious? You needed time?"

"Honestly, I'm still not okay," Oskar said. "But when Tino died I know I needed to come back. I should've come back sooner. I know I messed up. I messed up bad."

Oskar wiped his face and Peter threw a handful of mini hotdogs at him. "Do you think you were the only one who fell apartment you asshole? Dad was devastated and he could barely function. He needed you! I needed you!" Peter began to shake, holding back tears. "I needed you man." He walked over and sat down on the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms.

Oskar looked down at the ground, and the two men sat in silence for what seemed like eternity.

* * *

Two days after the funeral, they finally spoke to one another again.

It was early morning, and Peter was already in a foul mood from being woken up. So when he saw Oskar was the one at the door he immediately began swinging.

"Wait, I come in peace!" Oskar said, ducking away from Peter's fist.

"And your face will leave in pieces," Peter said, swinging again. "Why are you here?"

"The letters," Oskar said, grabbing Peter's hands and forcing them to his sides. "Before he died, Pop said there were some letters he wanted me to have."

"Then you should have gotten them after he died."

"I couldn't find them before I left."

"That's your problem not mine."

"No, stop," Oskar said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I looked everyone I could think of back then but found nothing. They must be hidden in the house somewhere, and if they stay that way I'll never forgive myself."

"Ironic," Peter murmured.

"I don't think that's actual irony-"

"Fine, just make it fast," Peter snapped.

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me look?" Oskar asked hopefully. "You were always better at physical activities than I was.

“Hide and seek is a physical activity now?”

“I guess,” Oskar shrugged. “You speak a lot more dryly than you used to.”

“Only around you,” Peter said, “Are you gonna come in or what?”

* * *

Two hours later, Peter was even more exhausted and all the angrier for it.

“Are those letters even real?” he yelled across the living room. It was the third time they’ve checked it, seeing as no other room seemed to yield anything.

“They must be real,” Oskar mumbled, flipping through a stack of magazines for the fiftieth time. “Pop told me they were. He said they would be located ‘where I’d expect them to be.’”

“That’s really vague,” Peter sighed. “Most treasure hunts have a clue or a map. What are those letters about anyway?”

“No idea.”

“That’s great,” Peter said, “So you sent us on a wild goose chase.”

“Hey, I’m trying okay!” Oskar said, standing up, “God. Give me a little leeway?”

Peter tensed. “I’ll show you leeway you ass,” he yelled, swinging his fist and as hard as he could.

* * *

“You’re both idiots.”

Peter flinched as Wendy applied hydroxide to the cut on the side of his face. In all fairness, the black eye he gave Oskar looked a lot nastier. But then again, he had no idea how bad his own bruised eye was.

Oskar looked absolutely furious, but avoided making eye contact with Peter. “He started it.”

“You were the one-“

“Shut up!” Wendy shouted, cuffing each of them on the back of the head. “You’re brothers and you’re all the family you have left. Do you really want to spend the rest of your lives hating each other?”

“I don’t hate him,” Peter spat. He thought he would sound angry, but he heard his own voice break with sadness instead. Oskar looked up at him in surprise. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted him here? Every day Dad asked about you even though you weren’t his son and… god Oskar, he thought of you like a son.”

Oskar sat in silence, purposely obscuring his face, but it was clear that he had started crying. Peter pushed past him and into the kitchen.

When Wendy came in a few minutes later, he was rifling through the stack of cookbooks that his fathers had stacked next to the microwave.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Looking for Dad’s Karelian pie recipe,” he said, not taking his eyes off the books. “He always tried to teach it to me but I never bothered to learn it. Ah! Here it is!”

Peter pulled out a thick volume with ‘Tino’s Recipies’ hastily scribbled onto the side in sharpie. Immediately, a bunch of papers fell out.

“Well that’s great,” Peter said, bending down to pick them up.

“You can’t just leave it like that with Oskar,” Wendy said, “He needs you and you-“

“Holy crap!” Peter yelled, gathering up the papers. “Oskar, get in here! I found them.”

Oskar came into the kitchen a moment later, his surprised face red from crying. “What? Where?”

“In Dad’s cookbook,” Peter explained, spreading the papers across the kitchen table. “Get this: they look like love letters. Wait… I think there are some diary pages here too.”

“Really?” Oskar said, sitting down at the table and looking at the pages himself. “But how is a cookbook ‘where we’d expect them to be’?”

“Dad and Pop always did say the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach,” Peter said, picking up one of the papers. “These are old too. This one is from 1967!”

“1967?” Oskar thought for a moment. “They would’ve been our age that year, 27.”

“What does it say?” Wendy asked, leaning forward.

“I- I’m not sure actually,” Peter admitted sheepishly. “It’s written in Swedish.”

“I’ll try,” Oskar said, grabbing the paper. “Seems like those summers in Stockholm were good for something…”

Oskar scanned the page quickly, and, glancing up at Peter, began to read.

_17 September 1967_

_I’ve made the final preparations for my travels to America. I’m so nervous, I don’t know what to expect. Of course, after Dagen H, I suppose it might not seem as big a change as it could have been. Mother says I need to stay and find work, but I don’t want to go._

_From now on I’m going to practice my English more. Father says that if I can’t speak it well enough, they’ll assign me to a labor position permanently._

“What’s Dagen H?” Wendy asked.

“No clue,” Oskar shrugged.

“Well that was… boring,” Peter said, shifting through the letters. “Why would Pop want you to have all these papers anyway?”

“Maybe the next one will be better,” Oskar said, picking up another letter. “This one’s in English!”

_Dear Berwald,_

_I’m writing this to you to tell you there’s no hard feelings._

_While I was not happy that you ended our arrangement, I understand why you did. Marriage is a sacred, beautiful thing, and I’m so happy for you and your family._

_If you’re ever in the Boston area, please drop by. I’d love to see you._

_Best Wishes_

_Tino_

“Wait, marriage?” Peter asked, blinking.

“It’s dated 1987,” Oskar said, examining the letter more closely. “This must have been when Pop married my mom. I didn’t know he knew Tino back then.”

“Is there a diary entry from around that time?” Wendy asked, sorting through some of the papers herself. “That might have more insight.”

The trio sat in silence, shifting through the papers. After a few minutes, Peter stood up.

“Hey, I think I found something. It’s not from 1987 but… listen.”

_11 February 1972_

_Today everything changed._

_I almost dare not write about it, but the security of this diary provides me an outlet that nothing else can provide._

_I’m in love._

_I never thought I’d be in love. ~~Ever since I~~ I just assumed it wasn’t in the cards for me. I’m already in my 30s, an old bachelor, and Mother has been nagging me to settle down and start a family. But I’m afraid it might not be possible._

_I would give all that up just to be with him._

_I know he feels the same way I do. Today we talked, and it was the scariest moment of my life. We were at the amusement park, and we snuck behind one of the machines and held hands. I thought one of the employees had seen us, but nothing happened, so I won’t think anything of it. I can’t. I just want to be happy and not have to worry about looking over my shoulder._

_Maybe someday that will be possible. But for right now, these stolen moments are enough._

Peter blinked, looking up from the page in surprise. “Wait. They knew each other for that long?”

“You never asked them how they met?” Wendy asked incredulously.

“Well, I mean I did, but they never specified what year it was.”

“This is confusing. All the jumping around and crap,” Oskar groaned, shuffling through a few more papers. “Everything here is dated, so it would probably be easier if we read it all chronologically.”

Wendy nodded in agreement. “Why don’t I do it? You guys should probably lie down and ice your… entire bodies really. We can read them over takeout or something. What do you guys-“

“McDonalds!” They both said in unison, turning and staring at each other in surprise.

Wendy smirked. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. You idiots should get some rest.”

* * *

After scarfing down some of the leftover casserole, Peter went to his room and lay down, trying desperately to fall asleep.

_Dad and Pop really knew each other for that long? And Pop still married Oskar’s mom? ...and Pop was really that scared?_

Peter rolled over, annoyed at the thoughts that kept invading his brain. It wasn’t like he didn’t know their lives were hard. But growing up he had never heard either of his fathers admit that they were scared.

“Hey Peter?”

Peter sat up and looked at the doorway. Oskar was standing there, bandaged and exhausted.

“What is it?”

“It’s about the letters,” He said, averting eye contact. “I know dad said he wanted me to have them… maybe to get closure about his and mom’s sham of a marriage, I don’t know… but I think you should have them.”

“Me?” Peter blinked, uncertain of where this was heading.

“Everything you said was right,” he smiled sadly. “I had no right to come here today or to the funeral. I just… After we finish going through the letters, I’ll leave, and you won’t have to see me again.”

Peter stared at him in shock, before standing up and walking over to face him. “What did you say?”

“I said I’d leave-“

“What. The. Hell.” Peter grabbed Oskar by the collar and shoved him against the wall as hard as he could. Oskar stared at him, looking extremely frightened. “So that’s it, huh? You just gonna bail again?”

“I just thought-“

“About what’s easier for you?” Peter finished. “Did you listen to anything I’ve been saying the past couple of days? I want you _here_ Oskar. I don’t think I can do this if you leave. You’re my brother. We had a treehouse and a trampoline and a shared, debilitating video game addiction. You were my best friend,” Peter heard his voice break. “If you leave I’ll be all alone again. Please.”

Peter let go of Oskar’s shirt, shoulders slumping as he let out all the pent up emotion he’s had since his father died.

“Pete…”Oskar choked. “I’m not gonna go anywhere. I’ll be right here.” Peter felt Oskar wrap his arms around him, and Peter buried his face in Oskar’s shoulder. “I’ll be right here bro.”

* * *

Emotionally drained, Peter was gone to the world until Wendy shook him awake a few hours later.

“Come on, wake up! If you stay asleep you’re whole cycle will be thrown off.”

“You suggested it,” Peter groaned, hazily grabbing his pillow and whacking her with it.

“I said you should take a nap not a hibernation!” Wendy clicked her tongue, hitting the unconscious body next to him. “You too Oskar. Get up!”

Oskar responded by whacking her with his own pillow and rolling over to get some more sleep.

“I guess I can just sit here and read the letters to you guys,” Wendy said. “The ones from the 80s are particularly sexual.”

“Oh god no,” Peter grimaced, now fully awake. “I don’t need that.”

“Sex with another man was like nothing I’ve ever experienced,” Wendy read. “It was like he reached inside of me and-“

“Stop it!” Oskar yelled, covering his ears. “How would you like it if we read stuff like that about your parents?”

“I accidentally walked in on them when I was ten. Nothing else compares to that,” Wendy grimaced. “And it worked didn’t it? I figured you’d rather I interrupt your cuddle session than let you go on Beijing Standard Time.”

“It wasn’t cuddling,” Oskar argued, face red. “We just kinda dropped.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with cuddling?” Peter said, throwing is arm around Oskar. “Reminds me of when we were kids.”

Oskar lazily tried pushing him away. “Get off you loser.”

“Not unless you used the magic word.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh now you asked for it,” Peter grinned, practically tackling him.

“No, my spine. You’re so fucking heavy,” Oskar yelled as his brother sat on him.

“Well that was a fast turn around,” Wendy observed, before turning to walk out of the room. “When you guys are done with… whatever the hell this is, come downstairs. I’ve finished sorting the letters and diary pages, and McDonalds involved too much driving so Chinese is on its way.”

“Will do,” Peter saluted, while Oskar struggled in vain to escape.

* * *

Half a carton of Chinese food later Peter knew more about his father’s life than he cared to.

“When are they gonna meet already,” he grumbled. “Half of this is about money transfers and Pop bitching about his job. It’s kinda boring.”

“I think I found it,” Oskar said, pulling out a letter and handing it to Peter. “It’s from September 1971…”

_29 September 1971_

_My coworker Mikkel took me out to drinks after work today. It was that bar on Carmel Street that Feliks had gotten alcohol poisoning in a few years ago. The wallpaper changed since then so now it doesn’t make the patrons dizzy when they look at the walls._

_Mikkel’s friends were nice, which is a refreshing change of pace. The past year’s been rough so it’s nice to have a moment like this every once in a while, even if I might regret some of it tomorrow._

_One of Mikkel’s friends, Tino, was a particular bright spot. I swear that guy feeds off of making other people happy. He’s Finnish, and we talked for about 20 minutes about our lives from back home. Lukas talked to us a little too but I think he had gotten into a fight with his brother or something, because he seemed to purposely avoid him._

_The evening went fine except for when Mikkel tried to talk to the waitress in Danish. People aren’t taking too kindly to men that live here without full American citizenship, especially with what’s happened with the draft._

Peter looked up from the entry. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Oskar nodded in agreement. Wendy seemed too wrapped up in something else to pay much attention.

They spent the next hour pouring over more diary entries covering their courtship in secret. All things considered, the 1970s were a pretty happy time for them.

Their first date was particularly cute, even if it did leave Peter with a feeling of sadness. They had met up in secret and had gone to watch a film. Afterward they snuck to a secluded area of the local park and talked for hours. It seemed romantic, but at the same time Peter knew that if they had been more open about their relationship it would have been dangerous. Dwelling on it made his blood boil, so he scanned the next few letters and diaries much faster.

Wendy had taken responsibility for reading a select pile of documents, and she was blushing feverishly with a goofy grin on her face that made Peter shutter. He could live without reading those letters.

“I found something!” Peter said, having decided to skip ahead to some of the entries from the mid-1980s. It was much less elegantly written than the others.

_30 December 1986_

_I may have lost Tino forever._

_My mother has been furious with me for failing to settle down and get married. She doesn’t have much time left so I agreed to go out on a date with the daughter of a family friend a few months ago-_

Wendy shuffled through the papers and nodded. “Yeah, he did. Not much of note here. Just says he was ‘roped into spending a day with a woman mother knows.’ He must have been pretty mortified if he didn’t mention that stuff in his own diary earlier…”

_-and everything went fine. For the most part. But I did a shameful thing._

_I had been stressed, so I had more to drink than I normally would have. The young woman, Ingrid, had a few glasses of wine as well. I don’t know what came over me but, I slept with her. I think in some twisted way it was to prove it would never work, but I woke up the next morning loathing myself. She didn’t pursue it further at the time but…_

_She’s pregnant._

_She didn’t find out until she was a ways along and wanted to try and raise the child herself, since she apparently always wanted a baby and she’ll hit menopause soon. But the financial burden she’s under has led to her to seek me out._

_When she left, Tino threw me out of the apartment._

_I don’t know what to do._

_I don’t want to lose him._

_I don’t want to forsake my child._

_What have I done?_

Peter looked up from the letter. Oskar was staring at the ground in horror, shaking.

“I-“

“Don’t,” Peter said.

“But-“ He started shaking harder, like he was going to start crying again. “Because of me-“

“Because he screwed up you were born, and I know he’d do it all again, heartbreak be damned!” Peter shouted. Oskar looked up, taken aback. “He loved us more than anything. They both did.”

Oskar nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced.

Peter skimmed through the next few weeks’ worth of writings. He didn’t read them aloud, because they contained information about a lot of fights Berwald had with Tino. Eventually it seems they stopped talking.

“They got engaged on February 12,” Peter said quietly. “His mother wanted it to be the 11th because it was a Saturday, but he waited.”

Oskar paused for a second but nodded when the meaning set in. “Oh.”

The wedding took place on March 31st, the day after Dad’s letter was addressed. After learning all this, the cold, detached tone in his letter made a lot more sense. The diary didn’t say much other than it was a beautiful service and Pop’s mother cried. The dress also did wonders to cover the beginnings of a real baby bump.

The diary continued to yield very little until June 2nd, the day Oskar was born.

_My son…_

_He’s perfect._

_I was worried that with everything that’s happened, something might have gone wrong but he’s perfect._

_I can’t believe he’s finally here. I can’t wait to see him grow up._

_I will do everything in my power to raise him properly._

“I will do everything in my power to raise him properly?” Wendy repeated, rolling her eyes. “He was such a poet.”

“Shut up,” Oskar said, hiccupping through the tears that began streaming down his face.

Wendy blinked in shock. “That-“

“-was deep for Pop,” Peter said, smiling weekly at Oskar, who nodded back before rubbing his face.

After this point the diary entries became fewer and further between, mostly documenting stuff like Oskar’s first steps or his first day of kindergarten, all of which made Oskar even more emotional.

Peter picked up one of the letters, scanning it briefly before gasping. “Holy crap. I never knew he did this.”

“What?” Wendy shouted, hovering over the running faucet and washing dishes.

“It’s about that story Uncle Mikkel told me earlier. About how he got into a drunken fistfight with Pop outside Grand Central Station.”

“He did what?” Oskar asked, looking up from what he was reading in shock.

Peter nodded. “Listen…”

_Dear Tino,_

_I know we haven’t spoken in a couple of years. I’m really sorry about that, I’ve been a lousy friend and I should have been more supportive._

_I’m not writing you this letter as a means of apology, as I know it’ll take a lot more than just words to properly make it up to you, but I found your address because I thought you deserved to know._

_Berwald is leaving Ingrid._

_He told us today at lunch. Says that while he loves his kid he can’t keep living a lie. Suffice to say we were all pretty shocked, but when we were leaving things went… bad._

_He started talking about finding you. About just packing up and leaving because he didn’t think he could face his family._

_So I decked him._

_You know, I never told you this, but my mom ran out on me right when I was around Oskar’s age, and I couldn’t believe he would have the nerve to even think about doing that. Guess I knocked some sense into him because he went home and called himself an idiot but man, the fight that happened before that was bad. I’m honestly shocked I’m not in jail right now. Especially considering hwo drunk we both were._

_Which might explain some of the word vomit, actually._

_But anyway, I suspect that as soon as he’s gotten his stuff sorted out at home, he’s going to come looking for you. It wasn’t hard for me to find you so I doubt it will take him very long._

_I don’t know exactly what went down with you guys, but he seemed pretty broken up about it. You may have someone in your life already or maybe you want nothing to do with him, in which case, be gentle. He just came out and I’m not sure he’d survive it if you literally slammed the door in his face._

_I’ll write you again because this letter is getting long, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry again. If you’d allow me, I’d like to be a better friend in the future._

_Mikkel_

Peter looked up from the letter. “You know he-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Oskar smiled weakly. “He’s only human, but he stayed in my life. That’s what matters.” He held up the diary entry he was reading. “Spoiler alert: He did find Tino. It fills in some blanks honestly, I wasn’t sure what ‘business’ he had to take care of back then…”

_07 September 1996_

_Today I went to see Tino._

_I hadn’t seen him in nearly ten years, but once I made the decision to come out, he was the first person I wanted to tell._

_He’s the bravest person I know, honestly. He had the balls to be honest about who he was when AIDS was all anyone could talk about when it came to people like us. I wanted to talk to him then, but I was too scared. I didn’t want anything to tip anyone off._

_Now I could scream it from the rooftops. I feel free. Middle-aged and free._

_He’s living in apartment just outside Boston. I was expecting some kind of shock but he just let me in. Turns out that Mikkel had written him about what happened, but I didn’t know it all the time so everything just spilled out._

_I think he may have pitied me on some level._

_He didn’t say much, but he said I could come visit him again. All things considered, I’m happy. I’m hopeful that maybe, somehow, this will all work out._

By the time Oskar was finished with that entry Peter had already picked up the next one and began reading. It was… incredibly awkward. Pop may not have consciously been aware of it, but Dad was extremely aloof the next few times they met. To be honest, after everything he just learned, Peter couldn’t blame him.

It was a couple of months later that things started to turn around.

“Hey, listen to this,” Wendy grinned, and proceeded to read the beginning of one of the filthiest letters Peter had ever heard.

“The scars will never heal,” Oskar whispered in a haunted voice as Peter ripped the letter out of her hands and shoved it back inside the cook book.

“You could’ve just said ‘They got back together’!” Peter shouted, his face completely red.

“Yeah, but you guys were looking tired,” Wendy snickered. “It’s midnight.”

“We took a nap this afternoon remember? We’re fine,” Peter snapped. “Maybe it’s you who needs some sleep.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Wendy shrugged and stood up. “Let me know what I missed in the morning. ‘Night.”

After she left, Peter and Oskar sat in silence, before wordlessly looking through the writings once more, as if to cleanse their palettes from what had just happened.

For the most part, it worked. The next few years were rough by happy for the couple. Dad moved from Boston back down to New York so Pop could stay close to Oskar, and it was a few years later that adoption started popping up as a reoccurring topic, which immediately grabbed Peter’s interest.

They had adopted him when he was 12 and it hadn’t exactly been a smooth transition. For the first ten years of his life, he had been living with his older brothers. But they lost custody of him after a series of drunken escapades, and though he still kept in contact with Arthur, they haven’t felt like family for a long time. He had been in foster care for two years at a group home when one of the workers recommended him for an actual home. By that point he was so cynical about the possibility of ever leaving the system that it had been a shock.

Peter skipped ahead to the date that most stuck out in his head. Before he could read it, he heard Oskar clear his throat.

“So, um, you probably read it already but… I didn’t deal with my parent’s divorce really well…” Oskar mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “So when Pop said he was gonna adopt another boy my age I just… I felt like he was trying to replace me. I didn’t hate you or anything.”

“You must’ve hated me a little,” Peter smirked. “After all, I was more popular than you were.”

“Separate issue,” Oskar waved dismissively, the heavy atmosphere lifting. “It’s just… for a while there I was pretty bad and I didn’t want you to think-“

“I don’t. Don’t worry.”

“Okay…” Oskar nodded, though he still looked a bit worried.

Peter smiled at him before looking back down at the diary entry.

_02 September 1999_

_I can’t believe it’s really happening._

_Oskar finally seems to have warmed up to the idea, so last week we formalized the transfer. He came to the house yesterday, and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. He must’ve been told we were a gay couple but he didn’t mention it so we tried avoiding talking about it as much as possible. We didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or set a bad impression._

_Well, we may have messed it up anyway._

_Everything seemed to be going okay, so Tino insisted that we go through with our original plan for today. We threw him a birthday party and Oskar invited some of his friends from school. Wendy in particular was on her best behavior and talked to him a lot. Even Oskar seemed to be doing his best, though in hindsight it must have been really uncomfortable for Peter, surrounded by all those strangers. He didn’t seem to know what to do with the video game system we got him either. It was probably tacky to give something like that to a kid right after he arrived, like we were trying to bribe him or something._

_Tino said he heard Peter crying in his room just now, and I’m worried we may have messed everything up. He’s a great kid, and I hope we didn’t ruin our chance to know him better. Tomorrow I’m going to do my best to make a better impression-_

Peter stopped reading the letter, the tears he was holding back flooding his vision.

“God, you too? First I cry and then we both cry and then I cry again…” Oskar trailed off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… if those memories are painful then…”

“No,” Peter said, a bit louder than was probably necessary. “I remember that day. That day was the best day of my life.”

“It… was?” Oskar said, blinking in surprise. “It seemed like you were miserable.”

“No, I was just… I didn’t know how to,” Peter sputtered, wiping his face, “I was overwhelmed. It was the first time someone had done something like that for me. My brothers never… It was the first time.” Peter wiped his face more, trying to calm himself down. “They didn’t mess up. I was crying because, I couldn’t believe these amazing people truly wanted me to be their son. No one ever wanted me before.”

“Shit man,” Oskar laughed. “Calm down, now you’re gonna make me cry.”

Peter laughed a little before the waterworks started again, and he felt Oskar wrap his arms around him in a hug, which only made him cry harder. It was funny, not funny haha but funny ironic, ironic used in the correct way.

Those two people, those two people that had been through so much and gave him his entire life were gone forever. But here, in this kitchen in this moment, blubbering like a baby in his brother's arms, he felt like he had his family back.

* * *

Wendy came downstairs the next morning to find the two men awkwardly spawled in sleeping positions on the cold kitchen floor. Rolling her eyes, she picked up the stacks of letters lying on the kitchen counter, completely sorted and read, and started putting them in an old shoebox she found upstairs.

Of course, there was still the one letter they wouldn’t find until days later, hidden in a stack of photo albums up in Berwald’s study.

_Dear Berwald,_

_It’s funny, you were always the one meticulously writing down every little thing into your notebooks. I kept telling you that the cheap glue would make them come apart but you never listened. Hell, you never listened to a lot of my good advice over the years. Except when we named the dog. That name was spot on and you knew it._

_But you’re gone now. You died yesterday. And I wanted to write this before you went down into the ground._

_I read your diaries. I know I shouldn’t have but I was always curious, and I thought it would make things easier but it only makes it harder to say goodbye. Even though Alice down at the church insists that I’ll see you again, it still doesn’t erase the fact that you’re not in this room anymore, scribbling away._

_But we did it. We found each other. We raised some great kids, even though they might be boneheads and argue about stupid stuff. I’m sure Ingrid would agree too, despite everything that’s happened. We made it long enough to get married. You were so handsome in your suit, almost as handsome as I was in mine._

_I’m just kidding. No one could be and handsome as you._

_I don’t want it to be true._

_I want it to be like last week, when you woke me up early because you were checking the stocks and I scolded you about not getting enough sleep. I want you to call Oskar and berate him about whatever girl he’s gotten himself entangled with. I want you to play that old ABBA track we used to listen to, even though I keep telling you I’m sick of it._

_But it won’t be._

_And now I have to say goodbye._

_Or as Alice would say, I’ll see you again._

_Actually, I do like that better._

_I’ll see you again. And when I do, you better be ready to hold my hand for weeks without letting go. Because I’ve already lost you, and I won’t lose you again._

_I love you_

_Tino_

**Author's Note:**

> [Dagen H](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dagen_H) (H Day) was the day in 1967 when driving switched from the left-hand side of the street to the right. As you can imagine, it was a bit of a mess.


End file.
